Below is a journal based on emails to my kids when I first went to South American in ’05. When I got back to the US, I added photos and did some editing. As time permits, I plan to add more journals and photos from before I started this blog. 9/14/2009.
Santiago Skyline
Santiago, Chile -- January 26, 2005
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After a nap I went for an orienting walk, and managed to find the plaza central, lunch and the main restaurant-bar-shop-tourist neighborhood with lots of outside seating at the cafes. Had the requisite beer (pretty good, on draft-a half liter for about $3.00.) Lunch was in a downtown businessman’s place... soup, salad bar, roast quarter chicken with rice, a beer and desert for about $3:50. Uninspiring, but not bad for the first try. Later in the Bohemian-tourist neighborhood I found more interesting restaurants... seafood, grilled meats, etc., and will probably try one for dinner in a while.
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There are several local tour outfits that do reasonable $15 to 25 day trips to the wine country, national parks and so on, and I’ll probably do one or two before leaving Santiago.
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So, all is well. Looks like it will be a good trip. I’ll email again in a day or so.
Santiago Plaza
Santiago, 1-27-05
I’m using the computer in the hostal… no Internet connection, but a little calmer than sitting the in local internet café. It’s around 7:30 and still light, but it’s been a beautiful day. Clear (with a California like haze) probably in the 70s and with a light breeze. After breakfast here in the hostal…. pretty good bread, a little cheese, butter, jam, fresh juice (of unknown variety) and instant coffee… I marched off, in a roundabout way, to the office of tourism for a little information and to begin the process of getting a fishing license. They directed me to the municipal office, basically the state office complex, which I eventually found at about 2:00. Naturally they were closed from 2:00 to 3:00 for almuerso (the mid day meal, usually the largest of the day). I wandered into the cafeteria, and after asking if it was open to the public, got into a conversation with the line cook who had studied English. After the usual pleasantries he served me the meal of the day, which was something that looked like cafeteria style chicken chop suey over rice, salad, bread and a very red dessert of some kind. I passed on the desert. The chop suey turned out to be a very nice stew of tripe with carrots, potatoes, green beans and pumpkin. Sorry you weren’t there to enjoy it with me. Anyway, it was a nice lunch priced at around $3, although the cook wouldn’t let me pay for it. I game him my card and invited him to visit in Springfield.
After lunch I went to the office of the treasurer for the license. The woman wanted to know which area, I through V, I wanted to fish. I asked what the areas were. Unfortunately, she had no idea except that area I was in the north and area V was in the south.
”Well, I think the area around the lakes.”
“Area IV or V?” she asked.
“I don’t know, which includes Puerto Montt?” She didn’t know, and in fact, had no map or, frankly, any idea of where the areas were.
”Well, perhaps I should buy a license for each southern area, how much are they?
“For which area, all are different?”
“OK, area IV.”
”That’s 1,723 pesos “(about $3).
“Really, only $3 for a foreigner’s fishing license?”
“Oh, you want a fishing license for foreigners?”
“Ah… yes, please” I responded with great politeness, ignoring the fact that most Chileans speak Spanish with a bit greater fluidity that had been demonstrated in our conversation to that point.
“Well, that’s different. A license for foreigners costs 7,230 [about $10] is good for one year and allows you to fish anywhere fishing is allowed.” I didn’t ask where fishing was allowed, but paid, took my new license, thanked her nicely, and told her I’d bring her a fish when I came back. Fried.
Fortunately, both the Chile guide book and previous experience prepared me for the encounter, which evidently was more or less typical for interaction with the bureaucracy---except of course that I actually got the license.
Having worked up a thrust, I hiked back to the Bohemian-tourist neighborhood a few blocks from my hostal and found a nice outdoor café in which to drink beer and smoke my cigar. Very pleasant, if a bit high for the local economy--1,500 pesos (a little less that $3 US) for a large mug. They also had capriñias on the menu at about $5 US, but I passed. Brazilian cachaca is available in the stores for about $3.50 a liter. Maybe it was the ice that made it higher--ice is just as uncommon here as in Europe. No hay, at least in stores.
Having developed a satisfactory buzz, I returned to the hotel, via the corner market, where I got some nice olives, goat cheese, bread, a tomato and avocado….and a packet of black pepper (which is not on the table next to the salt at restaurants ere, though vinegar and oil are. Chileans pour the oil copiously over most everything.), all to accompany the $2 cabernet I bought yesterday. After I email this, I’ll have a picnic in the hostal breakfast room.
So…all continues to be well. The only problem so far was that when I called the number on the master card that it says to call collect when outside of the United States, the operator I reached said that they would not accept collect or coin calls. I WAS PISSED. Platinum my ass, etc, etc.
Sat., 1/29, Santiago
I am again in the sala of the Hostal Amazons (check their web site… www.hostalrioamazonas.cl.) It is very pleasant…. think of a guest house where they serve you breakfast and provide friendly service, simple clean rooms and use of the family computer….where I am now.
Since my last email I have eaten two real meals, visited the virgin, found cigars and a portable radio. The first of the two meals was last night when I went to a well-known restaurant neighborhood in the barrio Brazil. The neighborhood includes an assortment of Chinese restaurants (big here), parriadas or mixed grill restaurants (even bigger) and mariscadas, sea food restaurants (huge). Since the latter is what Chile is said to be best at, that’s where I was going.
The restaurant, Mariscadas de ¨Somewhere¨ was solidly middle class, nicely decorated, with family waitresses, white table cloths, and tables a little closer than ideal, but “nice.” Clientele all were young and not-so-young couples, all with cell phones which rang during dinner, all dressed casually--women in pants, men in jeans or kakis and knit shirts or thereabouts. After a brief look at the menu, I told the waitress, a girl in her 20s, that I was an ignorant foreigner and would need help ordering. The menu had two main sections, first courses and main courses, each consisting on a list of fish or shell fish followed by prices.
The appetizers were mostly shellfish, and the entrees were mostly fin fish, but not much more was clear. I recognized about half the shell fish on the appetizers page: clams, oysters, scallops, mussels, some other kind of mussels, more clams, plus a assortments of things I didn’t recognize at all…. Including, it turned out, urchins, limpets, and ????
I asked about the first item and she drew urchins on the back of the napkin…. Pretty good, I thought. The second item on the list was mariscada, which I was told was a mixture, so I ordered that. For a main course, I ordered congrio, conger eel, one of the most common and favorite fish hereabouts, plus a half bottle of sauvignon blanc. I thought it was a good sign when she brought French rolls, butter, aji (Chilean Spanish for chile or salsa) and a small bottle (like in a spice rack) of lemon juice. This was followed by the mariscada, an oblong bowl-plate (like you might expect to be served lasagna in) well filled with assorted sea creatures. The bottom layer seemed to be raw clams and oysters, and above were cold steamed mussels of two or more types, octopus, crab claw meat, crab body meat, clams about the size of cat tongues, red stuff that could only have been sea urchin guts, etc., etc. Plus sea weed. And good. All very oceanic and cold and sharp and clean. Having finished that, I was well along toward full, but then came the fish.
On the menu it was listed as ¨fish with side dishes¨, and the sides turned out to be a choice of rice, mashed potatoes (puré), or various salads, the first of which was listed simply as ensaslada Chileña--tomatoes, onions and parsley. I chose that. The fish was a softball sized chunk from the creature’s middle, about 3 inches of torso, including the two flaps of meat and skin that surrounded the innards—fried. Battered and fried. Alone on the plate, battered and fried, big as a soft ball. Not a culinary marvel. The fish, stripped of its slightly greasy coating, was good, naturally good, perfectly cooked, innocent of seasoning or sauce, though the lemon juice helped. The salad was ample for two (people probably order different sides and split them, I had only the one). Ripe tomatoes, thin sliced onions and a medium sprinkle of parsley. Dressing was up to the diner, from a salt shaker, an oil bottle and the lemon juice. No pepper. (Whoever introduces the waiter-propelled pepper grinder to Chile will become rich.) Big meal; I ate about half…. And, as you may have guessed, finished the wine. Coffee (express doble) followed, total price about $20 US including tip. Of course the subway was then closed and I had to take a cab back to the hostal, but a pretty good evening over all.
Hill of the Virgin
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And a nice ending to the day, which earlier involved a visit to the virgin of Santiago: stone, large, situated on the peak of a mountain, and blessed by the Pope. Similar to the virgin of Quito. I walked up. A major climb: seven or eight switchbacks, dusty trail, maybe 500 feet above the city climbed in a mile or mile and a half. Took me about an hour in sandals. The accompanying kids did it in about the same amount of time, but they stopped to neck for longer than I stopped to rest. (Public necking seems popular here.) I came down by inclined railway in about 10 minutes, riding in the very car used by the Pope. Far out!
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Mercado central
Other recent adventures included the search for cigars, with which I will not bore you with, except to say that Chileans will tell you where to find something, even if they have no idea where it is. I also bought a little Sony portable radio, and then had almuerzo in the Mercado Central. This time I was more prepared, and had broiled fish with a mixed salad (carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, onions, olives, beets, cabbage, and tomato and a glass of not-so-great white wine (watery and slightly sweet), all for about $7.
Overall, prices seem to be about 50-60% US equivalents. Reasonable, but not dirt cheap. $2 a bottle table wine, $7 a filth (imported) scotch, $3 sandwiches of grilled beef and avocado, $.20 bottled water, etc.
So… more later.
Santiago, 1/30
Today the museums were free and I was beginning to feel like I ought to see a few before leaving for points south, so I went into the centro and visited the Museo de Bellas Artes and El Museo de Arte Precolombiano. Both were well done. The main exhibit at the art museum was a rather dark exhibit full of disarticulated genitalia and other icons of alienation by a young Englishwoman, but there was a hall of Chilean historical pieces that was relatively interesting. The Prehispanic arts museum was also very well done… no dusty cabinets or pickled organs… and included a bit of everything from Mexico south. Interesting, but not especially noteworthy.
I also ate again, which is always noteworthy, thought the novelty is wearing off. Corvina, broiled (not fried…just ask) with ensalada surtido… mixed salad of lettuce, beets, corn, peas, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli and potato salad. The piece of fish nicely grilled, and huge; really more than I wanted, even without eating the potato salad. Not bad though…. potatoes and lightly cooked carrots and oil rather than mayo. All served with the ubiquitous lemons… in this case 5 halves, along with a small dish of aji (much like salsa, but with more onion and fewer tomatoes) and pretty good bread. Pan frances. And a half bottle of sauvignon blanc which cost about he same as the meal, around $7 each. They also have wine by carafe or glass, but it is rather thin and sweet. I asked about it, and they said that it was the popular wine before international wine standards really changed the industry. Called something like vino pepino… I’ll figure it our in a few days. It would be pleasant over ice on a hot afternoon, but not a great fish wine.
So much for the day’s events: now a few observations:
- Dogs. Lots of dogs. There are the usual street dogs, well mannered and relatively mange free, but there are also the pet dogs; evidently about one per person. On the street it seems that about every fifth person has a dog, either on leash, in arms, or running along side. Pretty nice dogs too, mostly small mutts of no particular breed but with a bit of wiener dog mixed into most. That and poodle. Big enough not to suffer from miniature-dog-brain-syndrome (like Dexter), but small enough to carry across intersections.
- The owners, and other pedestrians as well, are a relatively homogeneous lot, ranging from indigenous to European, but averaging a light mestizo with 3 or 4 gueros (white folks) for every Indio. I’ve seen 4 blacks so far, and although they don’t draw crowds, they are far from commonplace. Dress is typical US, perhaps a bit more formal. About half the folks are in jeans and tee shirts, there is a scattering of suits, lots of chinos/kakis and button front shirts on men, and men in shorts and sandals are not uncommon. Women about the same, with lots of boob and bellybutton among the younger set. The occasional Goth, especially in the evenings. A few punks with Mohawks, lots of crimson hair on girls, lots of tattoos and piercings (lip rings are big among young men), a few backwards ball caps, lots of belly bags on men and women, etc. Could be New York, Chicago or LA (except all those are more heterogeneous with a smaller frequency of gueros…. Interesting isn’t it; US cities are more diverse than Santiago.)
- Poverty is not in evidence. I haven’t been to the outskirts, but I have been to the back stalls of the market which caters to working class folks, and while it looks different from the down town streets, it’s not by much. People are more likely to be dressed in work clothes and may be a bit shabby, but no obvious poverty. I’ve seen occasional street people, but more traditional beggars: crippled folks (1 in 5 Chileans has a physical handicap, according to something in the papers) or Indian women. Streets seem to be relatively safe, but people are pick-pocket aware (hence the belly bags) to a greater extent than in Chicago, but less than Madrid.
Internet cafe, Temuco, Wed. Feb 1
I’m out of Santiago, about 400 miles and 9 interesting hours by bus south by a divided 4 lane toll road ($2.50 every 120 km or so for cars). Leaving Santiago we traveled about 3 hours through an alluvial valley; maybe 50 miles wide and seemingly cultivated from edge to edge... at least along the highway. Great farming country, looks like the San José (California) area back when it was still in fruit. Grapes, apples, alfalfa, sorghum, and some corn fields (not quite as perfect and even as an Illinois corn field.... as thought agriculture has not become completely independent of such things as soil and water here); occasional rivers, mostly dry, crossing the valley and highway; older rural houses of adobe with tile roofs and (undoubtedly) dirt floors, newer ones of block or wood with laminated fiberglass roofs, cement floors, electricity, running water. Not unlike Puerto Rico in overall rural standard of living.
About 4 hours south we went through a hilly section, still in the large valley between the Andes ...distant but visible with occasional snowy peaks... and the coast range. Here the soil was not that deep rich alluvium but a more compacted sedimentary soil and there was actually some uncultivated land. Looked like the Texas hill country a little, rolling with something like mesquite and cultivation in the small valleys. Toward the end of this some kind of micro climate must exist...or maybe just a more market oriented farmer, because there was a several mile stretch of Brussels sprouts and asparagus!
And on we continued. And continued. No lunch stop. My seatmate, a 24 year old Argentinean kid going to visit relatives in Temuco asked if we were going to stop, and sure enough we stopped in Los Angeles (no relation.. probably a nicer town) and the bus conductor said we had 5 minutes. I got a sandwich (more about sandwiches later....good) and returned to find the bus gone. Four 18-20 year olds were also there looking for the bus and, to my huge surprise, it had not simply gone around the corner to get gas... it was really gone. With, of course, everything I own in 10,000 miles that I was not wearing. The kids asked the ticket girl what they were supposed to do, and she suggested that we chase the bus down in a taxi. Off we went. I hope the speedometer was in Km, because it was pegged at 120. It sure seemed faster than 70 mph. They gave me the front seat and the four of them squoze into the back amid much lamenting, wailing and incredulity that they had actually left without us. 30 minutes later we reached the bus, waved it down, and re-boarded. The kids screamed and yelled at the driver, but he basically said “Tough shit. We have a schedule to keep.” Possibly a German, but more about that later too.
So.... we had an adventure. One of the girls in the back kept saying "I wish I was dead," but both the driver (a guy in his 50s) and I suggested that this was probably not the worst thing that would ever happen to her. But in fact... it would have been a major bummer if we had not caught up with the bus. No doubt we could have and would have called ahead to have the luggage held, but it would have put me off my feed.
Which brings us back to sandwiches. Churrasco con palta. Thin sliced grilled beef (a la Phily cheese steak) with a thick schemer of avocado... palta in Chilean Spanish... over the top, all on a pretty good extra large hamburger-like bun. Usually cost about $1.75-$2. Pretty damn good even after the adventure.
Following the adventure and sandwich, by the time I got back to concentrating on the geography, it had changed. We were in pine forests....as far as the eye could see. More correctly, we were in pine plantations, row after row of something like a Monterrey pine, occasionally interspersed with a blue eucalyptus, for miles. Pretty dull, but Chile has room for such things with only 15 million people, 1/3 of whom live in Santiago. Eventually, the tree plantations thinned out and interspersed with wheat planted on rolling hills and groves of oak trees... very much like the San Luis Obispo area in Calif. In fact, as is now probably obvious, the Chile looks like the Pacific coast. Virtually every landscape has a match somewhere from Baja to (I assume, will have to wait till I get further south) Alaska.
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Temuco
Temuco is a city of about 250,000 and has had a lot of growth recently. Originally the heart of Mapuche country (see web, AKA Auracanians), the major settlement seems to have been by Germans in the 19th century, with more in the 1940s and 50s. The street I’m on is Alemania Ave, I’m in Hostal Austria, and when Margtit the hostal keeper called ahead for my reservations for tomorrow nicht, she spoke German. And last night Rolf bought me a couple of beers. Rolf is an empresario pequeño, a small businessman, he says. My age. Studied forest management in college, as his family has some of those tree plantations, along with cattle that, in his youth, he herded up into the Andes to summer pastures and brought back down for winter. One thing led to another, like with Uncle Jon, and now he as a bunch of businesses, and so on. (I think maybe he owned the restaurant too.... ) I was sitting on the terrace in front of a cafe, and Rolf was having a drink. Before lighting up my cigar, I asked it would bother him, and this led to a conversation. So, I learned all about the agricultural history of the Temuco region over the last 30 years, he bought me a couple of beers in the process. He was waiting for his wife who was across the street shopping at the Jumbo. Ah, the Jumbo.... Think Super Wal-Mart as done by Schnuks. Upscale. Three story, with the parking garage below, a Wal-Mart sized second floor with groceries, clothing, etc., and a restaurant; third story with other mall-style merchants. Beautiful. They have everything: Carr’s water crackers, Jack Daniels, Bertoli olive oil, imported German and Spanish products, fresh rhubarb, red bell peppers in plastic packages of three for $2.... A little above the going price, but a wonderful store. Armed guards in sharp uniforms walked the isles whispering to each other over their radios. Which, of course, is the other part of the German influence. Strong Pinochet supporters down here I bet. Trains run on time. Keep the Indians in their place. I didn’t talk politics with Rolf.... [Later I was to discover that the Pinochet years were not discussed much, at least not with me. When they came up the common sentiment was that the human rights abuses were terrible, but he got the economy moving on the right track; one maintained by the present left-of-center government.]
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Overlook at Temuco
So, my Hostal is a VERY clean, older house, owned by Frau Margarit. I’m in a small, narrow, servant’s quarters room, with single bed, and cable TV. CNN and BBC both come in perfectly, thank you. So now I know that the Iraq elections were a success, the fed raised interest rates another ¼ point and the Pope isn’t dead....yet.
Tomorrow I’m off to Pucón, THE place for backpackers, hikers, kayakers, white water rafters... and maybe even itinerant fly fishermen.
Villarrica, Feb. 3
I lied about Pucón… the hostales were full and so Margarit sent me here to Villarrica and La Torre Suiza instead. Villarrica is the place on the postcards where the vivid blue lake reflects the volcano in the background. Absolutely breathtaking. The town, of maybe, 10-15,000 (+ tourists) is a mix of tourism and real life, with hostales, internet cafés and artesanieas interspersed among lumber yards, sausage factories and corner markets. Of course the corner markets have huge wine, beer and liquor selections, and the lumber yard is doing a land office business from all the new tourist related construction, but it’s still a long way from Baaar Harbaar. I’ll probably stay a while.
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Volcán de Villarrica from the town
The problem is that my room is in the attic, or where the attic would be, directly under the eves. It’s hot, probably 90 today, and of course with the house divided into seemingly dozens of little rooms, there is no ventilation. I napped, as well as I could, with my cell door open which helped some, but…. Not much. It cooled off nicely by around 6:00, and was never unpleasant sitting in the shade on the terrace, but the room was an oven Maybe there will be a different room tomorrow.
The hostal, and most everything in Villarrica, is of wood with a German/Swiss/Bavarian feel. Everything in the Torre Suiza is clean unfinished wood, still with the lumberyard smell to it, and both utilitarian and nice to look at. They also heat with a wood stove, and have locally made wood furniture; again utilitarian but attractive. Evidently breakfast will not be wood, but REAL coffee (not instant), homemade bread and that Swiss granola the name of which escapes me. We’ll see.
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La Torre Suiza http://www.torresuiza.com/
The bus trip from Temuco was uneventful, except there were about 15 more passengers than seats . I had a reserved seat, but it was still a bit uncomfortable. Fortunately, it only took an hour and a half, and the station was only 3 blocks from the hostal, so that part went well. After settling in, I took a turn around the town, discussed fishing prospects with the tourist information office and with a local guide (an afternoon run down the river fly-fishing for salmon will be about $40 US…. Not quite what Uncle Jon is paying but not something I’ll do every day.) Everyone is also quite certain that I can take a local bus to somewhere that the road crosses a bridge or runs along side a stream, and get out, fish, eat my bread and olives and sharp clean wine just like Hemmingway (and Jake did in The Sun Also Rises) and be really cool. (Guess I’ll have to buy a bota.) Might even catch a fish.
Well, there’s more but it’s rather hot and someone is smoking in here (15 tiny computer booths in a 10 by 40 foot street front).
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View from my first room at the Torre Suiza
Villarrica, 2/5
Well, it wasn’t real coffee after all. Either morning. But otherwise the breakfast was very nice and all my fellow travelers were friendly. They included the usual mix of Swiss, evidently the majority at this hostal, Germans, French and Chileans, and two Americans. Bill and Patricia, geezers, lean as rails, here to climb volcanoes and trek. Bill is 73, a ragtime piano player by trade, and Patricia just retired from her job as a teacher. Although a bit irritated at the lack of English speakers thus far in his travels, Bill, and probably Patricia, are left-leaning, Bush-bashing, NPR-listening, and probably Audi-driving kindred spirits. Unfortunately, they left because the dog chorus that convenes outside the hostal was particularly vocal that night and they couldn’t sleep.
I, on the other hand, am sleeping great. I’ve been walking 4 or 5 hours most days, eating well (fish and salads,) drinking wine, and sleeping 8 hours straight…. And lying around for another hour in the AM just because. Then it’s into the shower (shared bathrooms are no problem and are much bigger than baños exculsivos) and down to breakfast. Thick slices of homemade whole wheat bread, butter, jam, that Swiss granola (muesli) and fruit…. and instant coffee. Then it’s off for the day. Yesterday I walked through the town, completely. I must have hit every street twice, coming and going. I was looking for a hat, but surprisingly, didn’t find one. I figured it would be easy to find either a Panama or a nice felt from Ecuador. Instead I found cheap cowboy hats with ‘Marlborough’ on the headband and the occasional wad-it-up slouch hat, but nothing I’d wear. But it was fine exercise. Today, I took the day off from my strenuous exertion and spent the morning on the lake shore with my binoculars and bird book. Figured out what everything I saw was… with a little help from the fishing guides who went through the book with me. Really, lots of interesting birds. You’d love it. Really.
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Shore where I went bird watching
Then I collected lunch (tomatoes, avocados, garlic, onions, chiles, basil, white wine, bread) and produced a fine chunky guacamole in the hostal guest kitchen. Finished off with the rest of the bottle of wine and a little Chilean cigar on the terrace. Then a nap.
And here I am. I’ll probably have a light scotch on the terrace when I get back and wander into town for a restaurant meal. I’m adapting to retirement. In the next day or two I plan to do the 6 hr roundtrip to the high lakes in a local national park and give the bus fishing a try. Tomorrow I move into a room on the second floor (with better circulation). Life is good.
Villarrica, 2/7
I'm definitely keeping track of what you need to do when you come here. I think hostels are definitely the way to go.....cheap, but more to the point, more pleasant than the usual US motel. No TV, the room has only a bed and night stand, and the bath is down the hall, but it's like being in someone's home... Here at the Torre Suiza the daughter has neighborhood kids over to play, and their kiddy pool is there on the terrace where I have a glass of wine and a cigar in the PM. Breakfast is always interesting because the new crop of guests are there and everyone talks and shares nationalities, adventures and suggestions over breakfast. Yesterday there were two girls in their 20's from the US...one lives in the 1300 block of N. Hoyne in Chicago, 5 blocks from where Andy lives.
This morning I sat between a garrulous retired Frenchman and an upper middle class Chilean couple in their 50's. The woman had been an AFS exchange student in Decatur, Illinois, and the Frenchman had been everywhere. I assumed they were all Chilean, he spoke with no obvious accent, and having only said a word or two when I sat down, they thought I was Chilean. A few more words straightened that out, but when the I asked the French guy where he came from, he said imperially, "Leon," not needing to note the country in which such a remarkable city existed. I responded, "¿Leon, Guanahuato?" a relatively provincial Mexican city. After briefly spewing coffee with laughter, he started talking about the Mexican Leon, which of course he knew as well. After the Chilean couple excused themselves, he switched to English, which he also spoke flawlessly (having taught in the medical school in Charlotte NC). He was really very helpful about where I might go next...across the Andes into Argentina was the suggestion, and I pointed him to a hostal in Temuco, where he was heading next. Anyway, a long story, but the point (if any) is that hostel travel is great. Weak on luxury, but rich in people. Tomorrow I’m off to the Parque Naciónal Huerquehue.
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Pucón street: Tourism central
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Link to Part 2
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